The Note
by MrsInfinity
Summary: After a mysterious note lures her out beneath the cover of night, Hermione Granger will soon discover everything she had been longing for. Draco Malfoy never expected Granger to show, but when she did, he'd be damned if he didn't finally claim what was his.(one-shot)


**A/N: So this is the first thing I've written in nearly ten years. Just a tiny plunnie that needed to be brought to life. Wouldn't have been possible without the help of ElleMalfoy65 as a sounding board(and for helping with the ending when I couldn't figure out how to wrap it up), and the amazing Frogster agreeing to beta!**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing; except an embarrassing amount of Slytherin merchandise.**

The wind had been howling relentlessly that night, carrying the sounds of the forest within its constant song. Why had she even agreed to this? Why did she always have to get herself into these "I'm all by myself, what the fuck was that noise?" situations?

She didn't know why she decided to even meet someone here, at midnight no less. She picked up her pace at the sudden sound of limbs crunching nearby. "Fucking hairy cauldrons!" Hermione exclaimed as her sneaker-clad feet lodged themselves beneath an exposed tree root.

Her petite body crashed forward and hit the ground with a resounding thud. As she tried to get her bearings, she began brushing the dirt from her clothes and pulling the leaves from her hair. That was when she heard it, soft and subtle, but it was there-a low chuckle penetrating the night's offerings of ominous noises. "Hello?" she managed to ask as her wand's tip suddenly illuminated.

She pulled herself up from the ground completely and took on a defensive stance. "Hello?" she repeated, louder and more confidently.

"Granger, Granger, Granger…." the amused voice penetrated the silence.

She knew that voice. Her heart began frantically beating at the realization. Her hand shot to her mouth to smother the scream threatening to escape her lips.

She clutched tightly with her free hand at her crimson-colored robes, the one's Ginny had insisted that "They make you look like a runway model, in spite of your wide hips and fuller-than-normal bosom." Her thoughts of Ginny quickly dissipated as she felt a warm breath against her neck. Goose pimples now adorned her entire body.

"You know red has always been my favorite color-at least when it came to you." the voice directly behind her, now a mere whisper in her ear. She turned slowly, the way you would in a scary movie when you know the monster is behind you, about to torture you in the most heinous of ways.

"Except," she thought to herself, "He's my monster." Warm firm hands began snaking their way around her waist and slipped beneath her robes, removing them slowly, testing her on how far she was willing to let him go. She didn't hesitate to raise her hands as he began to remove the cream-colored satin camisole she had been wearing beneath her robes.

He started exploring the smoothness of her newly exposed flesh. His devilish mouth lavished kisses on the hollow of her neck. As he nipped her skin between his teeth and suckled, a soft whimper tumbled from her lips and she knew he had won. He always did.

"You sent the note?" she asked, her voice heavy with desire. His hands had long ago dipped below her waistband and were currently working their own brand of magic against her sensitive nub.

"That's fifty points to Gryffindor," he drawled as her moans began to unravel his self-control.

"Draco,"she gasped, barely registering what he was doing before she felt the bark of a tree digging into her now-naked back. Draco had vanished their clothes in a hasty whisper of a wandless spell.

He slid his fingers through her wild chestnut hair, dipping his head towards her and tasting her soft, cherry-stained lips for the first time. She moaned into his kiss, lashing her tongue out at his violently, trying desperately to regain any semblance of control.

Her fingers were roughly clawing at his back, as his were now exploring the smooth expanse of her flushed skin. Gripping tightly to his shoulders, Hermione brought her legs up and wrapped them around his hips. Draco let out a low hiss when she brushed her warm center against his throbbing erection.

Breaking the kiss to gasp for air, she felt his lips ghosting along her collarbone, warm breath and his tongue slowly trailing down her skin, finding its way to her hardened nipples.

A low moan penetrated the thick air around them as he took one into his mouth. He began to nibble roughly and swirl his tongue around the pebbled peak. He brought his hand down between them to tease her now engorged clit, rubbing quick circles around it as her moaning grew louder and her body keened around his dual ministrations.

His fingers, now slick with her arousal, slid down her folds. He teased her entrance and finally plunged one finger, then a second, into her. Hermione's eyes shut tightly as the pleasure began to build with every stroke of his sinfully skilled digits.

His hot mouth on hers showed her that everything about him was equally as skilled as his fingers. She whimpered against his lips, throwing her head back, her mouth agape in a soundless scream. She clung to his body as all her strength left her. The waves of pleasure crashed down, as a sudden and violent orgasm ripped through her body.

Still coming down from her rush, her eyelids fluttered open. She managed to peer up at the man she was currently wrapped around while starkers on the outskirts of the black forest. His once silver orbs, now a liquid gold, bored into her cognac-colored ones. His breathing was ragged, his chiseled chest rising and falling as he slowly tried to regain his composure. The silent question in his eyes was answered with a mere nod of her head.

He inhaled sharply at her permission and quickly impaled her. He filled her to the brink then removed himself completely, repeating the motion again and again, quickening his pace as she moaned loudly. "That's it, Hermione, let me hear you. Fuck, you feel even more amazing than I ever thought."

The confession that he had been imagining this unleashed something primal within Hermione and she cried out his name loudly. She knew he was close as his breathing had become louder and his grunts quicker.

Her walls began to flutter around him. "Sweet Salazar," he said, his voice barely more than a whispered growl in her ear. His head was buried in the crook of her neck, her body convulsing around him as the second orgasm in ten minutes wreaked havoc on her now spent body.

He pumped once, twice more and emptied his essence into her. Hermione felt it seeping into her skin, releasing all the emotional strains she had been clinging to. Like scalding water burning its way down into her very core, it awakened something inside her, something unknown and never explored. Something she had no idea she even had.

"Please?" the question was barely audible through his harsh breathing. A few moments passed between them while they still remained entwined pressed against a tree, hidden beneath the shadow of the night. "Please, Hermione, let me love you."

This time the question was posed louder, full of pride, something raw and powerful. Finally, after years of longing and lust, all of his emotions poured into those six words.

She drew in a quick breath and thought for a minute. As she twisted the words around in her head and tasted the truth of his confession, she shuddered at the intensity of it all. Placing her hands on his heart, she looked up at him. "Can you, Draco?" she lowered her forehead to his shoulder, inhaling his musky scent.

"I feel as though you would possess me fully. Mind, body and soul.," she said. " Absorbed fully by everything that is you." Her words rushed out before she could stop herself. "Love isn't about possession."

She braved the prolonged silence that had befell them after her last statement. Five minutes had passed before their breathing finally stabilized into a normal pattern. Her head lifted up and her eyes leveled with his.

His beautiful, aristocratic features looked torn. "Draco?" she asked quietly. His face suddenly broke out into a manic grin. His canines had elongated, and his mercurial irises had changed to a golden hue. His pale tresses seemed to glow beneath the moonlight. His lips lowered to the base of her ear and murmured softly, "Then let me possess you."

All she could do was nod before she was driven back into heaven by Draco. His lips moved against her neck, and the feel of his impossibly sharp canines sent shivers down her spine as they traced her skin. She felt no pain as his teeth penetrated her fragile skin, marking her as his and only his-fully possessing her at last.

The raven-haired man paced Hermione's abandoned apartment, frantically running his calloused hands through the madness that was now his hair, which caused it to stick out unattractively and expose his lightning-shaped scar.

He usually tried to hide it, even though it had been five years since the fall of Voldemort. He still was quite unnerved with the infamy that came with being "The Chosen One." His thoughts trailed to the last time he and Hermione had spoken. He hoped that she had told him she was going on vacation and that he had simply forgotten their conversation.

It had been three weeks since his best friend and one-third of the Golden Trio, Hermione Granger, had last been seen. Harry had searched her apartment and office at the ministry at least a hundred times and still had came up empty. No trace of her whereabouts, no hidden messages in the sand.

Frustrated, he flicked his wand, flinging the nearby writing desk against the living room wall. Splintered remnants of the cherrywood obstruction now peppered the obsidian hardwood floor. He hunched forward, grasping his knees tightly.

Breathing heavily, clutching desperately at his pants, on the verge of a panic attack-he saw it. A small crumpled note lay beneath what was left of the desk. "What the…" his words cut off as he leaped forward and grabbed the piece of paper from the floor.

He slowly unfolded it. His hands were barely functioning due to a moderate amount of trembling. He had searched every inch of her home personally. He had cataloged every piece of possible evidence. How had he missed this?

Finally smoothing out the parchment on the cold kitchen counter, he took in the words. Elegant, precise, and very familiar script graced the expensive stationery.

 _Granger,_

 _I have what you have been seeking. Meet me on the southern edge of the Black Forest, beneath the broken willow. Next Sunday. Midnight._

He crushed the parchment in his hand and swore loudly, "Dammit, Malfoy." His thoughts immediately recalled a late-night conversation he had had with his former partner nearly three years before.

It had been after a long night spent behind a shrubbery bush, kneeling in Merlin knows what, for twelve hours. They had been monitoring some reported rogue Death Eater activity. They were both knackered and in desperate need of a firewhiskey-or six.

Harry was a very observant man, constant vigilance hammered into his head since he was a teenager. Then, it had been a necessity; now it was purely habit to pick up on everything around him. He began noticing little side glances his partner would shoot at his best friend.

He had noticed how Draco's pupils would dilate whenever Hermione was within a five-foot radius. The way Draco would shuffle his feet uncomfortably whenever she would join them for a case and sustained more than a ten-minute conversation with him.

"Draco?" he asked. He finally had enough alcoholic assistance in the courage department to voice his question. "What's your deal with 'Mione?" The words were slurred but they were clear enough for Draco to understand.

Draco immediately stiffened, breathing harder, as if the air had been sucked from the room. "What do you mean, Potter?" he responded, trying to keep the tremble creeping into his voice under control. This was a conversation he swore would never happen and he'd be damned if a few shots were going to loosen his tongue now.

"You're always staring at her, acting oddly when she's in the room. It's just strange. I know you're not prejudiced anymore-I mean, you're a werewolf, for Godric's sake."

Draco visibly tensed, clenching his fists together tightly. He hadn't realized Harry had noticed so much. He thought about his next words carefully, turning them over in his head for several minutes.

"It's complicated, Potter. Don't worry, I'm not planning anything nefarious for the precious Golden Girl." Harry looked up at him unconvinced and Draco inwardly swore, but continued on. "I still remember what her screams sounded like, the way her blood looked on the marble floor of my Manor's drawing room. It still haunts me and I'm still unsure of how to act around her." There, he smiled to himself, that should sate Potter's curiosity and make him feel bad for him at the same time. Slytherin till the end.

Harry had been silenced, unsure of how to respond, so he just took one last shot of Firewhiskey and said his goodbye. Ginny had been complaining about all his late nights lately, and he would love to be in bed with his wife before eleven at night for once.

Four months later, Malfoy's father had died and Draco had decided to take up being the head of the family, taking on everything that came with running Malfoy Enterprises. He had handed in his notice and quit the Auror Department immediately following the funeral.

But something about Draco's admission had never struck right with Harry. It wasn't that he hadn't believed some of what Draco had told him. But even Harry would have been blind to miss the arousal Draco would experience in Hermione's presence. It was all there in his eyes, which would quickly change colors from grey to a glowing yellow.

Harry also knew his best friend better than anyone else, he knew that she wanted Draco too-she had for some time now. And that was how he knew where she'd been for the last three weeks. With the ever-elusive Draco Malfoy.


End file.
